


some things can be both different and good

by bestliars



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-01
Updated: 2014-10-01
Packaged: 2018-02-19 10:45:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2385524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bestliars/pseuds/bestliars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In 2010 the most important thing Sid brought back to Pittsburgh from the Olympics was a gold medal. In 2014 he thinks, maybe, possibly, that the most important thing he brings back might be a boyfriend?</p>
            </blockquote>





	some things can be both different and good

**Author's Note:**

  * For [michaud](https://archiveofourown.org/users/michaud/gifts).



> BEST BETA IS THE BEST BETA AND SHE MADE THIS SO MUCH BETTER! (best beta is also pretty.)
> 
> Michaud you're really cool, I hope you like it <3

In 2010 the most important thing Sid brings back to Pittsburgh from the Olympics is a gold medal won on home soil.

In 2014 he thinks, maybe, possibly, that the most important thing he brought back to Pittsburgh from the Olympics is a boyfriend? The gold medal is great, but he already has one of those. He’s never really had a boyfriend before? Not like this anyway, not like an adult.

In 2010 he didn’t sleep with Shea until after they had their medal. They were roommates all week, but never touched each other. There might have something building, unsaid, in all that not touching. 

After his goal things got increasingly blurry. They won, on home ice, in overtime! It felt _so good_ that the world stopped making complete sense. He remembers the handshake line, the anthem, the weight of the medal hanging around his neck — _gold._ There was a party, and everyone wanted to talk to them. Too much to drink — just a little bit, or maybe it’s all the endorphins, _they won_.

Back in their room, and Sid finally felt free enough for anything to happen. It’s all on the edge of too much, of too good. Sid doesn’t really understand it, it’s like they’re lost together. Honestly, Sid doesn’t let himself do things like this very often. He doesn’t usually have a chance, winning a gold medal doesn’t happen everyday. It felt like the right way to celebrate, though. It was an indulgence, but with a teammate, and they deserved to feel like that. They were together for one night, and was incredible.

Then they went back to their own teams, went on with their lives, and that was the end of it. Sid didn’t even think of it that much. There were other things going on, he couldn’t get stuck on one night when it didn’t seem possible for it to be anything more. That should have been the end of it all.

In 2011 Sid got concussed. He’s sure other things happened, but he didn’t care about them, because he was concussed, or at least that’s what he thought it was at first. In reality it was a bit more complicated than that, but the point was that he couldn’t play hockey. 2011 sucked.

In 2012 Sid missed most of another season, returning just in time for a disastrous playoffs. In 2012 Ryan Suter signed with the Minnesota Wild. Shea wasn’t answering his phone when Sid called, and he didn’t know what he could say in a text message.

In 2012 Shea signed an offer sheet with the Philadelphia Flyers, and Sid hated it more than he should have. He shouldn’t have felt _betrayed_. It didn’t have anything to do with him, it was about money, and Shea, and maybe Suter, and whether Shea wanted to stay in Nashville with Suter gone. 

Still, the Flyers? Seriously? Sid doesn’t like anyone one on that team, which is how it should be. Shea playing for Philly might mean that Sid’s hate would have to start coming with caveats, which seems wrong. Fortunately Nashville matched, and it doesn’t matter. The thought of seeing someone he likes as much as he likes Shea wearing _that orange_ was enough to give Sid bad dreams.

They saw a lot of each other that fall. Sid would have liked it if it wasn’t because of the lockout. He hated it, standing around when they should have been playing hockey, but he knew Shea had changed. Sid couldn’t tell how, he has a hard time reading people off the ice, but Shea was different, his touches were different, his kisses were different. It wasn’t bad, necessarily, but Sid got frustrated because there was never time to figure out what had changed. They were never in the same place long enough, there was always business to get to, there were always distractions.

In 2013 Sid was finally back where he belonged, playing in Pittsburgh. With the compressed season and no inter-conference play, Sid hardly had time to think about Shea. He had enough of his own life to think about.

In 2014 they played against the Predators in one of the last games before the Olympic break. Shea said he’d be careful not to shoot any pucks at Sid’s feet, which was very considerate and oddly sweet.

They get to Sochi, and things aren’t the same again. It’s different than 2010, it’s different than last fall. Sid doesn’t usually like change, but he doesn’t mind these differences too much.

Mostly it’s all very normal. They spend a lot of time playing hockey. There are games, and practices, and a new system that they’re never going to get comfortable in, but have to figure out well enough. They have free time too. They play a lot of ping pong. They make a good team, and have fun taking down speed skaters and downhill skiers and biathletes. They’re both really into winning.

And at the end of the day, before they fall asleep, they make out and jerk each other off. 

That’s different than four years ago.

Sid likes it, but there’s no denying it’s different.

Last time they didn’t touch each other as more than teammates until they had the gold medals around their necks. This year it starts on their first night in Russia, sleepy touches as they struggle to adjust to the different time zone. Afterwards they clean up, then pass out. They maybe should talk about what they’re doing, but Sid is too tired to try.

It just works. They play hockey, they exchange handjobs, they play more hockey.

They win the gold medal, again. They celebrate the same way as four years ago. The sex is great, again; better than last time actually, because they know each other better and aren't as drunk. There aren't any awkward questions about what they're into, because they've gone over that before. They already know what to do. There aren't any questions about whether either of them are thinking about anyone else. This is just what they do — they win gold and then they fuck. 

Sid likes having routines. Most of those are everyday things, or close to, high frequency routines that are well broken in. This one is new. It's really special, so it doesn't happen very often, but he likes thinking about it as a routine, because that means it's definitely happening again. 

They win the gold medal, and then they fuck, and then they go home, back to their respective NHL teams.

Sid’s pissed off by the time the Pens get to Nashville. They lost their first two games since coming back from the Olympic break, and that isn’t good enough. He’s too focused on that to really get worked out about the prospect of seeing Shea again.

Sid goes in determined to win this one. It goes great — they win, 3-1, and Sid has three assists. Sid knows he can’t do it all on his own, but sometimes it seems like he can.

Anyway, he’s happy when he meets Shea after the game. Shea isn’t, but someone has to lose, that’s just how it works. Sid doesn’t see why he should feel bad for winning.

They meet up after the game. Sid hangs around just outside the visitor’s locker room until Shea finds him. Shea isn’t in too bad of a mood — if the Pens had lost Sid isn’t sure he wouldn’t have canceled their plans, but Shea’s a lot more easygoing about stuff like this. Most people are.

They walk to Shea’s car together.

“Do you want to go out?” Shea offers. “Drinks, food, or whatever?”

Sid doesn’t want to deal with any more people, and that must show on his face, or maybe Shea just knows him well enough by now.

“Or we could just go back to my place?” Shea suggests.

“Yeah, that sounds fine.”

Shea nods, and keeps driving. Sid’s never been to Shea’s house before. He isn’t at all familiar with Nashville outside the arena and the team hotel. The neighborhood seems nice, residential, with pretty tree-lined streets. The house is the type of house Sid would have imagined Shea living in. He didn't realize he'd have opinions on things like that, and isn't sure what it means that he does. 

Shea’s big dogs greet them at the door, and Sid gets introduced. It seems like they approve of him. Getting the approval of animals he isn’t going to spend any time around shouldn’t make him feel so good, but they’re Shea’s dogs, and Sid wants Shea to like him, and Shea seems like someone who would trust his dogs’ judgement.

Shea offers him something to drink, like a good host, but Sid doesn't want anything. That isn't why they're here. Shea knows that too. 

They go upstairs, and very quickly stop being awkward and just get _good_. 

Afterwards Sid isn't in any hurry to leave. He should go back to the team hotel and start getting ready for the next game, but it's nice to be here in Shea's big bed. Once he leaves they won't see each other for ages. Sid isn't sure he likes that. 

Shea doesn't seem in any rush to kick him out either. 

It isn't awkward, to lie on their sides in bed, looking at each other. It should be, but it isn't. 

“I really like you,” Shea says.

“I..." Sid knows he isn't great at this. There's no way he sounds smooth, he might as well be honest. "Yeah, same.”

"If you wanted to, we could try to make it work? I haven't done the long distance thing before, and that's supposed to be hard, but I know that seeing someone every day isn't always enough to make it last."

Sid's never even done that. But they could try this. It sounds terrifying, but not exactly bad. "I would maybe want to do...something? With you. It would be...good?" Sid says. Even admitting interest seems scary. 

“What do you want?" Shea asks. 

For the first time in what feels like forever Sid doesn’t know. 

He wants to play hockey, but he doesn’t _just_ want to play hockey. It isn’t the same all consuming trump card it had been before he spent so long hurt. He’s learned that he can’t methodically put hockey first forever.

He doesn’t want to make his life more complicated, but that’s also less of an absolute rule than it used to be. His life is already a mess of complications, and nothing’s going to change that. The complications aren’t going to go away, so would it really be so bad to add a few more? If they make him happy?

When he was younger the answer was clear: yes, absolutely, another complication is only ever another complication, nothing could make it worth it. It isn’t like that anymore. Now he at least has to think about it.

Shea’s staring. Sid realizes he’s taking forever to answer, and that isn’t polite at all.

“I don’t know,” he has to admit, and it feels freeing.

Sid doesn’t know what he wants. Or maybe he does, and just isn’t sure he wants it enough to try.

Shea laughs — not at him, not in a mean way, just chuckling, like Sid just did something cute or funny, not like Sid just turned him down, which is technically what happened. Or at least Sid didn’t say yes. He could have said yes, he kind of wants to, but he doesn’t know. If he’s going to do this — and he’s at least going to try — they’re going to start off honest.


End file.
